Suit Shopping With Rip Hamilton

Rip Hamilton, 34-year-old professional basketball player, took his daily stroll though downtown Chicago. He noticed the little things; cracks in the pavement, children strapped to large backpacks on their way to school, and the fearless pigeons, ready for all challengers of their 5x5 sidewalk space. These pigeons reminded Rip of the vaunted Detroit defense he was a part of not too long ago. He missed those days but was anxious to get on with his new life in Chicago. Life, however, was unwilling to cooperate.

On beautiful days like these - 65 and clear skies - Rip did not mind walking a mile to his tailor. Walking allowed for him to rid his mind of the injury concerns that plagued his first season in Chicago and the pressure of being the final piece to a championship puzzle. Bulls fan who noticed Rip walking alone down the street would react differently. Some would ignore him all together as if to say, 'you aren't shit if you aren't playing.' Others would slyly pull out their iPhones and snap pictures. Some would be bold enough to ask for an autograph or to pose for a photo. Rip accommodated all requests, always with a smile. He enjoyed the banter and good-natured inquiries about his mask but withdrew when the conversation took its predictable turn.

"When are you coming back?" someone would inevitably ask.

"I don't know. I just don't know. Hopefully soon."

Truth be told, no one was more disappointed than Rip himself. He'd recommitted himself to basketball after spearheading a team-wide insurrection of then-Pistons coach John Kuester. Were his injuries the result of his past transgressions? Perhaps karma rearing its ugly head? He sure hoped not.

Rip escaped the mob as quick as he came and continued on to his favorite tailor's shop [name retracted]. He trusted Christopher for more than just fashion advice. Christopher to him was an honorable man with his best interests in mind. He valued Rip's friendship as much as his wallet and would occasionally delve into more personal matters such as Rip's marriage or his mental health. These conversations, albeit brief, were revealing and only strengthened the bond between the two. Christopher was Rip's only acquaintance allowed to call him Richard.

Rip swung open the door only to find Christopher, arms already perched on the counter. He had a sixth sense when it came to Rip's arrival.

"Richard! So great to see you."

"Good to see you too, my man."

"I read in the papers that you're finally able to lift you arm above you shoulder."

"Yeah, well I've been able to do that. We just have to make it look like I'm making progress. As of now, I'm still a game-time-decision."

Christopher knew what game-time decision meant.

"I have just the thing," he said as he went scampering to the back. 

Christopher came out with a grey suit, already tailored to Rip's exact measurements.

"This suit exudes confidence and class. It speaks to your ability, even at an advanced age, to remain fit and sexy. People will see you in this suit and think, 'That's a man who isn't letting his injury get him down. He'll be back in no time, better than ever! Ready to score all the baskets!'"

"Ok. I'll try it on."

"Stunning. Absolutely stunning."

"I'm not sure," Rip said with some hesitation. He felt very uncomfortable challenging Christopher's opinion. "It's not exactly what I'm looking for, ya know?"

"Sure. What are you trying to convey?"

"I'm trying to be on some High School Reunion shit. Like, 'Look at me Now'-type shit. We're playing Detroit on Friday. That's a big one for me. I spent seven years there and won a championship. I want to show them how good I'm doing now. Like I don't need them. I'm good, ya feel me?"

"I have just the thing."

Christopher rushed into the back for a second time and came out with another suit, this time in black. 

"This suit says, 'You can't tell me nothin'.' This is a suit typically reserved for red-carpet events. With this, you'll be the sharpest-dressed man in the room! Make sure to keep that wedding ring on! You will be the envy of Detroit and might even be offered the mayoral position on the spot. Bow ties are all the rage right now!"

"Hell yeah. Alright. I'ma get into this."

"Impeccable!"

"Yep. This is it right here."

Rip pulled out his American Express black card and handed it to Christopher. He continued to look at himself in the mirror, admiring the fit. He had never looked this good in his life, he thought. Tayshaun Prince would surely be jealous of his situation. And the bow tie! Christopher really was a genius. Never in a million years would Rip have thought to wear a bow tie on the sideline and it absolutely worked. He was thankful for this suit. He was thankful for Christopher and his good fortune. He couldn't wait to bring it home and show his wife.

Christopher approached Rip cautiously. " Umm, Richard. There's a problem."

"What is it?"

"Your credit card. It's...it's been declined."

"That can't be right."

"I thought the same thing. I tried multiple times and they all came back declined."

"Shit. Let me call these people up."

Rip spoke for an hour with a representative of American Express. She assured him they would resolve his problem, but there had been problems with many accounts nationwide. They were working on it, she promised in broken English. She gave him no guarantee as to when he would be able to use his card.

Rip knew what this meant. No suit, at least not today. "I don't know what to do, Christopher. I have no means of purchasing a suit for the game."

Christopher thought for a second and smiled. "Don't you see, Richard? This is a sign."

Rip looked at him bewildered.

"It's a sign. You must return to play against your former team on Friday."

"But it's been so long. I can't do this."

"You can, Richard. You can. Believe in yourself and you will make all the baskets!"

He knew Christopher was right. This was something he had to do. He had to prove he could play to the city of Chicago, his teammates, and most of all, himself. At that moment, the pain in his shoulder temporarily subsided. He thought of the pigeons and the current Bulls defense. And it dawned on him, he was home. Different city, but home nonetheless.

"I'll be here Sunday," Christopher reminded him. "Just in case."

All Around The World The Same Song

"Give me that stupid hat and take off your shirt!" Or something along those lines.

All of the worst things people say about Valentine's Day are true. It is a made-up holiday, no doubt, manufactured for the purpose of selling candy, flowers, and Hallmark cards. It puts unnecessary pressure on guys who feel they've done a pretty good job up to this point. Worse yet, Valentine's Day plays on the insecurities of (mostly) women whose existence is validated by a man in their life. You are not single and have not been for some time. Being the pampered soul you are, you bemoan the yearly difficulties of impressing someone who is going to love you regardless.

Valentine's Day is not all anxiety and depression. In a long-term relationship, you, and everyone really, have the tendency to take your partner for granted. Valentine's Day, if nothing else, is your yearly reminder to show them you care, even though you don't always show it. You'd prefer something less traditional as a Valentine's Day warm-up, but your girlfriend wants to see The Vow. You think of hundreds of things, some of them very unsavory, you would rather do, but your girlfriend wants to see The Vow so The Vow is what you're going to see. You've subjected her to the Washington Wizards and the Portland Trail Blazers and Tony Allen enough to understand relationships even things out. You recall a recent conversation:

"Who's playing?"

"The Knicks and Timberwolves."

"Gross. Who do you want to win?"

"Oh, I don't really care."

"Why are you watching if you don't care who wins?"

You have no good answer for this question. It isn't normal to watch a six or so hours of basketball a night? Normal people do other things on Saturday night? You watch basketball because that's what you enjoy, and you cannot explain why you get so much satisfaction from sitting idly and watching others achieve athletic greatness. It isn't easy to love you, you understand, and realize the least you can do is sit still for two more hours and watch The Vow instead of LeBron.


The Vow transports you to a world where you are supposed to believe Channing Tatum is an underdog, overdue bills are paid with LOVE, and a near fatal car accident is ultimately beneficial. Tatum wears a goofy hat in the beginning and ugly sweaters throughout--a deal breaker for most guys, but Channing Tatum is not most guys. He made the women in the theater (about 80 percent of the crowd) swoon when he appeared in a        
non-frontal nude scene. His love interest, Rachel McAdams is a well-dressed coat rack, serving mostly to get Tatum naked and to help him set an impossible "good guy" standard. Despite the plot being structured around McAdams' ability to remember, you get the feeling a hour-long loop of Tatum in his underwear reciting a sappy monologue would have grossed the same.

There is no need to get into the story because you know how the story ends. This does not stop you, however, from becoming immersed. You try to deny it, but a part of you says "Fuck Jeremy," and wonders why it's taking so long for McAdams to make the right decision. This can't possibly be a true story like the opening credits say it is, and if so, how much money are these real people making off this? The actress playing McAdams' sister is fortunate to look like her, you think, helping time move by. You want to feel above this, but you know you aren't. Deep down, you know every basketball season is no different from the worst chick flicks.

The ending, storylines, and drama are the same, played by different actors/players and shifting circumstances based on story/team. You know the year will end with a champion being crowned. You know there will be surprise team and a surprise rookie or two. You know this team will come up short in the playoffs and these breakout player(s) will regress to the mean. You don't care. This is your preferred form of entertainment. The difference being, those who enjoy chick flicks always root for the winner. They know they will leave happy. It's not like that in sports. You don't want your team to be Jeremy or the douchy future-brother-in-law who, in his big scene, questions the profitability of a recording studio in today's day and age. You want your team to be Channing Tatum and there can only be one.

To borrow an English phrase, the Bulls seem to be losing the plot a bit. At full-strength they're the best team in the NBA. Will they ever be at full-strength though? This is not meant to be a panicked reaction to a regular season road loss to Boston without Derrick Rose. This is a legitimate concern come playoff time. The Bulls will finish with the top seed in the East and face Miami in the Eastern Conference Finals. This is the predictable part of the movie. Nagging injuries or not, as long as Rose and Deng play, the Bulls are good enough to get past the first two rounds. Rose and Deng's injuries seem like they aren't going away and Rip Hamilton has literally went away somewhere. No one has seen him in weeks. Twenty-point road wins against bad teams are nice and all, but Miami is the only real competition to get the girl.

It feels like the Bulls are descending into supporting role territory or even worse, one of those woman who hosts an Anti-Valentine's Day Party. That's probably too extreme you're thinking, but remember, you sat through The Vow last night--you're not thinking straight. Your bewilderment and inherent pessimism knows no bounds and you just want the Bulls to be Channing Tatum because The Vow did its job and made you feel oh so inadequate.

See how none of this makes sense?        

The Case For Keith Bogans

Bulls fans are spoiled. As if six championships in the 90s and watching the greatest player ever wasn't enough, all I've been hearing for the last three months is the Bulls need to upgrade the shooting guard position. As if a 37-16 record without a full roster, and one game left before the All-Star break wasn't enough. We need to get better! And the only way is to get another shooting guard, anyone except Bogans. Rip Hamilton, Stephen Jackson, JR Smith, Arron Afflalo, Anthony Parker, Courtney Lee, OJ Mayo--ANYONE.
Derrick Rose can't just be considered one of the best point guards in the game, he has to be considered the best. Derrick Rose can't just be an MVP candidate, he has to be the MVP favorite. The Bulls can't just have one All-Star, they need at least two.
More. More More. Nothing has been good enough this year, has it Bulls fans?
I understand that the last 12 seasons have been tortuous, mixed with a little good here and there. It was fun watching Elton Brand compete with some pitiful Bulls teams early in his career. The 2007 playoffs in which we swept the defending champion Heat in the first round, and battled back from a 3-0 series deficit to take the Pistons to six was memorable, and left many of us foolishly thinking the Bulls had turned the corner. The 2009 first round series with Boston was quite possibly the greatest playoff series ever and best Chicago Bulls moment of the last 12 years--even though we didn't win that series.
I also understand the Miami Heat have created an "arms-race" mentality in the NBA. Three big names teamed up in Miami and the same will probably happen in New York. The Celtics already have their Big Three, now Big Four. Conventional thinking then says that in order to keep up with these teams, you need to stockpile the biggest names and most talent. This line of thinking is true to an extent, but disregards the issue of chemistry and a player's willingness to adapt to a certain role.
That's why I'll take Keith Bogans over any of the players I just mentioned above. He plays great defense and is rarely caught out of position. He's never once tried to do too much on the offensive or defensive end. Ask yourself if any of the above players be content with six shots a game? I doubt it, and that's twice the amount of shots Bogans takes per game. I'd rather not deny Rose the ball if it means the shooting guard replacement needs more shots.
The biggest critique of Bogans is that he doesn't score enough. On the surface, it's hard to argue with that. He averages 3.9 points per game. But lets look at this scoring "conundrum" a little closer.
With Noah back, the Bulls will average about 80 points per game from their starters, tied for the fourth highest total in the NBA. The only teams higher are the Knicks (85), Warriors (82), and Heat (81). The Knicks and Warriors push the ball up the court, take quick shots, and play very little defense. They also have thin benches. Their teams philosophies are perfectly suited to scoring a lot of points. I know, they're a combined 3-1 against the Bulls, but neither are championship contenders and wouldn't beat the Bulls in a seven game series. The Heat have the two best players in the NBA, who combine for 52 of those 81 points. In comparison, the Bulls' top two scorers, Rose and Boozer, combine for 44.
Hopefully, my point about Bulls fans being spoiled is starting to get clearer. How many points do they expect the starters to score? The fans seem to think we should be able to add a 12-14 point per game scorer to the starting lineup. If we did that, we'd not only have a starting lineup that averages more than 90 points per game, but outscores the 2nd highest scoring lineup by 7 or 8 points a game.
The average NBA team gets 70 points per game out of their starting lineup. The Bulls get 80, but the fans want over 90. Ludicrous!
Let's also acknowledge that Bogans has been shooting the ball much better of late. In the first 31 games of the season, he shot 37 percent from behind the arc, in line with his career average. In the last 22 games, he's shot the three-pointer at a 47 percent clip. How about the a happy medium, 42 percent? I think that's more than doable, considering nearly every Bogans three pointer is uncontested. He's seeing more wide open looks than he ever has in his career. A five percent increase from his career three-point shooting percentage isn't out of the question.
72 percent of Bogans' field goal attempts are threes, a number that I'd like to see closer to 80. He only attempts 2.5 shots per game, so the lack of scoring isn't his fault. There's simply not enough shots to go around, which is why it would be ridiculous to think a starting lineup could average over 90 points a game. If Bogans took even six shots a game, he'd be averaging 6 or 7 points, a number that is well in line with most fourth or fifth options. There's always going to be an odd man out and Bogans is that man. Why he's being criticized for it, I have no idea.
The Bulls have never won or lost a game because of Keith Bogans. They won't win or lose a game because of his potential replacement. We're good enough to contend with the team we have right now. It's been 12 rough years for God's sake. Stop trying to act spoiled now.